


Entry Level

by Fyre



Series: Command [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a covert operative in the CIA wasn’t something you could write home about. SHIELD was another rung up the secrecy ladder. It wasn’t something you applied for. It was something you were invited to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entry Level

**Author's Note:**

> So, watched Agents of Shield and saw my Queen at work. Ended up writing this within half an hour after seeing it.

Moving from the CIA to SHIELD was a step up.

Not that anyone would ever know it.

Being a covert operative in the CIA wasn’t something you could write home about. SHIELD was another rung up the secrecy ladder. It wasn’t something you applied for. It was something you were invited to.

It was an agency so covert that you didn’t know about it until they knocked on your door.

They’d come for him after the Bogota affair. Something about initiative and forward-planning. All the things that got him a dressing down in the CIA had caught SHIELD’s eye, and now, he was offered a chance to be an Agent of an organisation he hadn’t heard of two months earlier.

Nick folded his hands in his lap, keeping his eye turned straight ahead. 

The director, he had been informed, liked to meet all hand-picked agents.

The offices could have been any government building in any part of the world. The couch in the waiting area was plain. The clock on the wall was regulation. Even the paintwork and the colours looked bland and neutral.

It was the little details that gave it away.

On first sweep, Nick hadn’t caught it, but on the second sweep, he could just make out the wire high on the wall. Not noticeable unless you were looking for it. The secretary was typing, but the letters they were hitting on the keyboard didn’t correspond with the legs that were moving on the type-writer. And then there was the depth of the room. From the outside, it looked like it should have been a lot bigger. It didn’t fit.

The buzzer on the secretary’s desk shrilled.

The secretary looked up. “Director Carter will see you now, Mr Fury,” he said. 

Nick rose from the chair, straightened his tie, and walked through the door.

There were two people in the room: a middle-aged man was sitting at the large desk, hands folded on the surface, looking at Nick as he entered, and an older woman with iron-grey hair, who was standing behind him, notebook in her hand. 

“Mr Fury,” the man said, rising and holding out his hand. “I’m Director Carter.”

Fury walked across the room, watching them both, and took the man’s hand. He squeezed just too hard. “Want to try that again?” He saw the twitch of a smile of approval cross the woman’s lips, and released the man’s hand. He turned to look at her instead. “Director.”

Director Carter offered her hand. “Good afternoon, Mr Fury,” she said. “I apologise for the playacting. It’s remarkable how often people trip at the first hurdle.”

He caught her hand, shook it. “You shoulda made sure the chair was the right level for him,” he said.

“Is that the only thing that gave him away?” she said, still smiling. “Please, elaborate.” 

Fury glanced at the man, who was still standing behind the desk. He didn’t look surprised that he had been caught out in the lie. 

“Cut of the suit isn’t right for someone of your level,” he said. “Fingertips are callused, says he does typing, which I figure a director doesn’t do all that often. The chair doesn’t fit him, size or level. When I came in, he looked at you like he needed permission. Only for a second, but long enough.”

“You see, Thomas,” the Director said mildly. “You’re improving, but you still need to work at it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man said. He nodded to Nick. “Sir.”

The Director stepped aside to let him pass, and sat down behind her desk. “Won’t you take a seat, Mr Fury.”

Nick sat down facing her, and took the chance to study her. Her accent said British, but there were twangs to it that said she’d been in the US a long time. She was at least sixty, her hair drawn back in elaborate twists around a fine-boned face cobwebbed with wrinkles. She was still good-looking, and when she smiled, it reached dark brown eyes. 

“Trying to get a read on me?” she said, looking down at the file in front of her, then back up at him.

“Trying to figure out my new boss,” he replied.

Her eyes rose to him, and she looked amused. “You seem very confident we still want you, Mr Fury,” she said.

“You sent your substitute away,” he replied. “I figure that’s stage one.”

She inclined her head. “It’s a start,” she said. “You know why we called you in.”

“Bogota.”

“Indeed.” She folded her hands together on top of the file. “I have seen the reports and the debrief, Mr Fury. It makes for quite an exciting read, but I do have a question: what possessed you to do such a reckless thing?”

He didn’t look away from her. There was something challenging in her eyes, daring him to be honest.

“Because it was the right thing to do,” he said with a shrug of one shoulder. “Sure, it was breaking all the rules and international law, but I figured that if it saved lives and less people got hurt, it was the right thing to do.”

“Breaking all the rules,” she echoed. “Yes. That’s quite the understatement, isn’t it?” She smoothed a page of the file in front of her. “The Columbian Government were calling for your head on a silver platter, as I recall. They were rather embarrassed about the whole thing.”

Nick spread his hands. “I didn’t do it for them,” he said. “Sometimes, Governments spend too long sitting on their hands, and the job never gets done. No one knew I was there until after it was done. They would never have known about it either.”

Director Carter sat back in her chair, flipping the file closed. “You don’t mind getting your hands dirty,” she observed. “That isn’t always a bad thing.”

“I do what I do to protect people,” Fury replied. “That’s why I signed on in the first place.”

The Director ran her thumb along the tips of her fingers. “An admirable trait,” she said. “You have been told about our agency.”

“Not much,” he admitted. “You take secret agency to a whole other level.”

She smiled at that. “Thank you,” she said. “For the most part, we are an intelligence organisation, but you have seen the acronym. It’s rather clunky, I will admit, but it summarizes our other mission.”

“Shield,” he agreed.

“Precisely,” she said. “We are here to protect people. From their enemies, themselves, and their own governments if need be.” She settled back in her chair, folding her hands together in her lap. “By comparison, the CIA would be considered a pleasant stroll in the park. This is not somewhere to work if you are afraid of facing powerful people.”

Nick raised his eyebrows. “Did I give the impression I was afraid?”

She chuckled. “Not at all,” she said, “but I feel it’s only fair to give ample warning. We are more than merely a scientific and intelligence agency, Mr Fury. If you sign on with us, you may find your eyes opened rather wider than you expected.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Sounds like my kind of ride,” he said.

Director Carter rose from behind the desk and held out her hand again. “Then welcome to SHIELD, Agent Fury.”


End file.
